


His Father's Son

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Birthday, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-04
Updated: 2010-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim seeks to lend Matt some comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Father's Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devilc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/gifts).



> For devilc's birthday: the impossible to write pairing and in honor of the compassionate Tim Riggins.

Tim was almost home when he realized it wasn’t where he really wanted to be. Yeah, he wanted to stretch out in the lawn chair with beer and feel the sweet Texas breeze on his face. He was just afraid of a repeat of that last time with Becky. He shouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. Besides, Tim didn’t really think of Becks in that way.

He glanced down at the case of beer on the floorboard of his truck and flipped a bitch before he could think it through. There was a tight knot in his gut as Tim found himself pulling up in front of the Saracen house.

“Evening, ma’am,” Tim said solemnly when Matt’s mom answered the door. “Sorry to bother you but is Matt home?” He’d wanted Matt answer the door but quickly realized that hadn’t been likely to happen.

Shelby hesitated, her expression pleasant, if unsure.

“I thought he might want to get away from everyone and everything for an hour or so,” he rushed on, heart racing at the fear she might turn him away. “I thought we’d talk about football or girls or … nothing, if he wants.” The ensuing moments of silence were the longest of Tim’s life.

“That might be good,” Shelby relented, stepping back to let Tim enter the house. “He’s in his room, I’ll tell him you’re here. You’re one of the Riggins boys, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly, relief flooding through him in a warm wave. “Tim. I’m Tim.”

“Tim,” Shelby repeated, moving toward the closed door to Matt’s room.

“Hey,” Matt greeted weakly as he entered the living room. He looked worn and haggard as he pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Hey, Cobra,” Tim said as he tried to smile, struggling for the words or actions that would make it all better. “Wanna go somewhere quiet and have a beer or three?”

“Yeah, I dunno.” Matt’s words didn’t match his actions. He seemed antsy and ready to flee even though his words seemed hesitant. “I was out pretty late last night. I think my mom’s worried.”

Matt’s eyes were pleading and pain filled, even as he held his body upright and rigid. Tim realized just how often he’d seen Matt looking just like this. Hurt and yearning held in check through force of will and tense shoulders. That feeling of uselessness that had been plaguing him returned, taking his breath away.

“She told me she thought it would be good for you to get out for a few hours.” That wasn’t _exactly_ what Shelby had said, but her meaning had been clear enough, Tim rationalized.

“She did?” A small spark of hope lit Matt’s eyes and Tim was embarrassed at how relieved he felt.

“Yeah, I told her I wasn’t gonna make you talk about anything you didn’t want to.”

“Well … okay.” Decision made, Matt didn’t waste any time and Tim didn’t have any chance to savor his victory.

Matt made a beeline for the front door and didn’t look to see if Tim followed. It looked like he was being chased by something unseen and Tim guessed he was. Pursued by his own tumultuous emotions and the demands, expectations and pity of others.

Tim backed the truck out into the street and headed off into the night, suddenly at a loss for a destination.

“Crack open a beer and just enjoy the ride, Cobra,” Tim said, faking cheerfulness.

“Don’t,” Matt said tightly as he pried open the case of beer. “Don’t start calling me that.”

“What? You like Mayday better?” Tim prodded, determined to keep the conversation on safe topics like football, beer, and … sex. He found himself wondering if Matt was having sex with Coach’s daughter. Tim shook off the memory of his own experience with the protective Eric Taylor, and he hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“How about just Matt?” The sharp sound of a can opening filled the truck cab. “Just plain, ole Matt Saracen.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing plain about you, Matt,” Tim said in a low voice, willing Matt to believe it.

“There ain’t nothing special about me, either.”

“So, you’re saying Juli has bad taste in men?” Tim deliberately provoked.

“What?” Matt’s expression was part anger, part puzzlement. “No. What? That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, she sees something in you,” Tim pointed out in a quiet voice. “I don’t see it, but she obviously does.” That was a lie. Tim _did_ see it.

Matt stared at him blankly and Tim gave him a half smile, gut twisting with fear he’d said something wrong.

“She’s a smart girl,” Matt finally said, taking a long draught of his beer. “I keep waiting for her to figure out she can do better than me.”

“Come on, Cobra.” Tim grinned at him fully now, finding his stride with this comforting thing. “Jules saw the error of her ways once, already. She’s smart enough to stick around this time.”

Matt’s response was a non-committal sound and Tim felt his heart sink again.

~*~

Tim cut the truck’s engine in the empty field. It was a warm, clear night. He pulled the blanket from behind the seat and spread it out on the grass. Setting the case of beer within arm’s reach, Tim dropped down onto the blanket with a heavy sigh. Matt sat silently beside him.

“You did good today, Seven,” Tim spoke into the silence, sensing it was time to stop needling Matt with the whole ‘cobra’ thing.

“Nah,” Matt said with a negative shake of his head. “I made a fool of myself and I couldn’t stop crying like a baby.”

“You shared a good memory of your dad,” Tim insisted. “You let people see a funnier side of him and you honored his service to his country.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same for Walt when the time came.

“I guess.” Matt opened a third beer.

“How did you get over hating him?” Tim heard himself asking and it sounded like his voice belonged to someone else. He ached with the silent hope that Matt had a solution he could use.

“I didn’t. I just learned to hate him a little bit less.”

“How?” Matt’s answer surprised Tim, at the same time he knew it couldn’t work that way for him.

“Coach Taylor walked me home last night after I made an ass of myself at their house.”

Tim huffed a laugh and shook his head at what he should have known all along. “Coach Taylor,” he whispered to himself.

“He told me to remember my dad loved me the best way he knew. Just cause he wasn’t the kind of father I wanted him to be doesn’t mean he didn’t try the only way he could.”

Tim had been right. Matt’s father had loved him in his own way. Walt Riggins had only ever loved himself.

“He did make sure you and your grandma were taken care of, even if he did miss being at all your birthdays. When he came home, people shook his hand at least.” Even as he said the words, Tim lamented that his own father had never even really tried.

They sat in companionable silence for several long minutes.

Tim broke the silence with what had been eating at him most of the day. “I’m sorry I dragged you to the funeral home last night.”

“You didn’t drag me. You just went along with me.” Matt’s absolution was a relief.

“It was my idea and I shoulda known better. With how he died … I just shoulda known.” Tim was haunted by the look on Matt’s face at the sight of his father’s shattered body. He wondered if he could hold back the tears as well - hold himself as proudly erect - as Matt had done when he finally found himself staring down into the dead face of Walt Riggins.

“You couldn’t have stopped me. I needed to see him for myself.”

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that, so he lapsed into silence once more. When the mood seemed to grow heavy around them, he tried to lighten things up.

“So, Seven … Juli given you any comfort sex, yet?”

Matt choked on his beer it made Tim smile.

“Right. Don’t answer that. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. And you, Seven, are a gentleman.” A wave of affection threatened to overwhelm him.

Matt snorted in response and Tim caught just the faintest trace of blush on his high cheekbones.

Tim took a long drink, his mouth suddenly dry. His desire to lend comfort to Matt was giving way to awareness of sad, soulful eyes and full lips. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping a hand around the back of Matt’s neck and tugging him closer.

Without resistance, Matt let himself be pulled into Tim’s body, his head coming to rest Tim’s shoulder. Matt sighed heavily and Tim turned and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. The heat of his body burned against him and he inhaled deeply, smelling Matt’s clean scent and the faint hint of aftershave.

“I’m tired, Tim,” Matt finally said, sounding so weary and defeated it left Tim feeling gut punched. “I’m tired of being pissed off. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of missing a man who’s been out of my life more than he’s been in it.”

Tim squeezed his eyes shut against the pain he felt radiating from Matt. “We’re out here under a wide Texas sky, the stars are bright, the breeze is warm, we got beer and there’s no one here but the two of us.” He turned to bury his face in Matt’s soft hair.

“I wish I could forget about everything for a little while.”

Tim knew that feeling and ached to give Matt that time of forgetfulness. It was a favor no one had ever done for him. He ran his hand up and down Matt’s back and slid his lips through Matt’s hair until he could press his next kiss to Matt’s forehead.

“Tim …” Matt started.

“Shhh,” Tim quieted him, relieving them both of their beer. He turned to press Matt back onto the blanket. “Just stop thinking, Seven, and let me take care of the rest.”

Matt let Tim cover his body as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He planted his feet on the blanket and let his knees fall open. Tim lowered himself and pressed his lips Matt’s.

Whatever reaction Tim had expected, Matt’s hands curling around his back to grip his shirt had not been it. Still, when he felt those strong and capable hands pull him closer, he went eagerly.

Tim pressed their chests and their groins together and deepened the kiss. Matt clutched at him at the same time he arched up, as if trying to crawl inside of Tim. He swept his tongue along the inside of Matt’s hot mouth. The wet rub of their tongues against one another made Tim feel as though the top of his head was coming off.

Tearing himself away, Tim sucked in a ragged breath and heard Matt do the same. He kissed his way down Matt’s throat, using more tongue than lips and leaving a wet trail along his heated skin. Matt’s hands were restless along Tim’s back.

“Where … what …?” Matt asked in a harsh whisper.

“Quiet, Seven,” Tim chided as he eased his way down Matt’s body, determined to give him the forgetfulness he desired. “Stop thinking and just feel it.”

He felt Matt tense slightly when he reached for the fly of his jeans. Tim placed a light kiss on Matt’s belly when he popped the button and felt him relax down into the sensation. He felt Matt tense again when he reached in and withdrew his cock, exposing it to the warm night air.

Tim wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around Matt’s erection, then slid his mouth down the shaft, licking generously with his tongue as he went. He tasted warm and musky and Tim’s jaw ached at the flavor. Matt groaned, low in his throat and buried his fingers in Tim’s hair.

“Fuck, Tim,” Matt gasped.

Tim hummed around Matt’s cock, sucking hard moving his head at a rapid pace. He wrapped the fingers of one hand around Matt, moving it in tandem with his mouth. He focused all of his attention on bringing Matt pleasure. He was rewarded with another harsh groan.

He couldn’t resist, Tim had to use his other hand to squeeze himself through his jeans.

Matt writhed beneath him, breathing harsh and his hands running through Tim’s hair. The sounds Matt was making, the smell and the taste of him all made Tim’s cock twitch and press hard against his fly.

“God, I’m close,” he heard Matt whisper, just before the sound of it was caught and carried away on the warm breeze.

Tim tore at zipper of his own jeans at the sound. He had to get himself out. He needed the feel of his own skin on his sensitized cock. As soon as he was free, Tim stroked at himself, tugging roughly in time with the movements of his head on Matt’s dick.

“Oh god, oh god,” Matt chanted, his hands fisted in Tim’s hair.

Pulling himself off of Matt’s cock, Tim crawled up his body until their mouths met and their dick’s aligned. Matt licked into his mouth deeply. Tim ground his hips down into Matt’s and felt a return thrust. He ran his hands restlessly over Matt’s chest and skimmed them down over his thighs.

Matt’s hands found their way to Tim’s ass and he felt himself pulled in close. Tim wrapped a hand around both of their straining cocks and began to stroke in counter point to his thrusting hips.

Matt tore his mouth away on a gasp and then pressed his forehead to Tim’s. They lay like that, breathing hard into each other’s mouths as they thrust, pushed, arched, stroked and moaned. Tim worked his hand quickly, striving to bring them off together.

He allowed himself a triumphant smile as they came within seconds of one another, hot come coating Tim’s hand, landing on their clothes and skin. He felt Matt shudder beneath him, his groan become a near shout as hot jets of come flooded Tim’s fist.

They shook together, moaned together, and breathed harshly into each other’s mouths and when it passed, Tim barely remembered to slide to the side and not collapse on top of Matt.

As soon as he could think, Tim knelt up and put himself away. He gently tucked Matt back into his jeans and used the corner of the blanket to clean them both up. The sense of uselessness that had been dogging him for days – hell, most of his life – faded into the background as he took in Matt’s serene expression. Tim finally felt as though he’d done something right.

~*~

They packed up in silence. It made Tim nervous at first, Matt’s quietude. Finally, he realized how comfortable the quiet was. Matt had a sense of ease about him now. He was much more relaxed.

The drive back to Matt’s house was made to the soft accompaniment of the radio, and still neither felt the need to talk. When Tim pulled up to Matt’s house, he didn’t seem in any hurry to exit the truck. Instead, he turned to speak.

“Thanks, Tim,” he said quietly.

“Don’t mention it, Seven,” he replied with a slight nod, gratified to have given Matt the time of forgetfulness he’d needed. “Just being a friend.”

They exchanged a silent look before Matt slipped from the truck. He smiled at Tim before he shut the door and turned to walk into the house.

Tim put the truck into gear and headed for home, a sense of peace settling over his shoulders as he drove.


End file.
